Butterfly Caught
by rain and leaves
Summary: What did Sylar choose to always remind him who he is? Nathan Two struggles with some inappropriate feelings toward Claire.
1. Vortex

**Disclaimer:** If you recognise it, I don't own it.

**AN:** Another Heroes multi-drabble fic, complete. Warning – Claire is a very sick girl in this fic. If you enjoy it, please review.

**Vortex**

1.

She can't get his hand off hers. Soap doesn't work. Scrubbing just makes it bleed. Still, she feels it. Keeping her safe. It makes her sick. She stands in the shower and cries.

She can't get his eyes off her eyelids. Every time they close she sees him staring – dark eyes, that intensity; she blinks –

Blink.

Sylar.

Blink.

_Sylar_.

She won't sleep. Her eyes hurt. The blood he spilled washed down the drain but now his hand is still on hers. The moment froze and trapped her in it.

Her eyes hurt. Her heart hurts.

She blinks.

Again.

Butterfly fast.

2.

Nathan has a dream, not long after Coyote Sands, that Danko tells him to choose something. Danko has a watch. Nathan thinks a watch would be nice. He has one Claire gambled with in Mexico, a very nice one, nice even broken seven minutes to. But he thinks about it. Hard. And in the end, he doesn't choose a watch to remind him who he is.

When he wakes Nathan's forgotten what he chose. Must have been important. But he can't remember.

Claire calls him from New York. She's having a good day. Nathan smiles.

Hears the clock lose time.

3.

It's six weeks before Nathan gets away from Washington. Claire's on assignment. They're tracking a mind reader who uses his ability to pick up girls at clubs, which is pathetic. Claire's thinking – hard – about Peter. Being emotionally vulnerable. She's not supposed to think about the assignment, just dance. It feels _good_. Claire feels wild and free – and happy. Exhilarated. Hair, hips, the beat.

Peter has never danced with her, hasn't spoiled this with impossible love. Dad's not judging her on how well she does this.

Sylar couldn't take this from her.

This is all Claire.

Her heart flutters. Butterfly fast.

4.

The first day Nathan loses time, he only knows because the song has changed. One minute someone's singing about the whole club looking at some girl, the next – someone else is telling Nathan there's a timebomb ticking. And Claire's coming towards him, her face flushed and alight with happiness. She hugs him.

"When'd you get here?"

Nathan pretends he hasn't heard. She stays where she is, pressed against him on her tiptoes, and repeats the question. It's so loud in here. And hot. He wonders if he can get away with a third time.

"It's good to see you."

"What?"

5.

Nathan spoiled the trap, but Claire doesn't mind. What she minds is that she feels giddy and secretive and wrong, telling Nathan he's wrecked her assignment, seeing the flicker of a smile before he asks her to repeat that, please? She wobbles and his hand is on her lower back, his watch cold on her skin. Shiver. This is not like Mexico.

This is not how she feels with Nathan.

Her fingers curl around his suit lapel. For support. Lapel, not tie. Because anyone who tugs on Nathan Petrelli's tie knows what she's getting into.

And Claire doesn't.

Want to.

6.

The second time Nathan loses an hour. At ten he hears his cell ring. At eleven his left sleeve is soaked with blood and his arm is totally unmarked. He stares at it. There's a pattern – maybe – angular slashes, but the cloth drank greedily and the meaning's gone. Tell Ma.

Like a sleepwalker, he checks his cell. One missed call. Claire.

Don't tell Ma.

Roll down the sleeve. Cold and wet. He doesn't even _have_ a knife. Not even a letter opener.

Call her back.

"Just reminding you about the benefit tonight. Do you still want me to come?"

Yes.

7.

Claire can't figure out what to do, can't understand what she feels, until she gives up. Just thinks – _things are different._ And somehow the observation sets her free.

She's hugged Nathan before. Shared a motel room with him. Helped _undress_ him, for God's sake, and didn't feel anything but sad… but that was _before_.

Her life falls neatly into two halves.

Nathan is different. Claire is different. And when she does her makeup for the benefit, under the sweep of her eyeliner Claire sees something different in her eyes. Strappy shoes. Strapless dress.

Her mind is aflutter with butterfly wings.


	2. Fracture

**Disclaimer:** If you recognise it, I don't own it.

**Fracture**

8.

"Eyes up, Peter."

Blonde hair, black dress, pink lipstick. Mutter to Peter. "Want Bennet to shoot you? Or should I just throw you out the window now?"

You got a perfect right. You got champagne. "You want to get out of here?"

"Meet me on the balcony." Pink lips curve. Dodge Ma. Dodge Peter.

Fly, eighteen floors up, and the door must be unlocked. Wanted it to unlock. Click. In ten minutes you'll be going to hell. "Want a drink?"

Green eyes dark. "No."

In twenty she's got what she came for.

In thirty you almost remember that you died.

9.

Claire lies in her own bed and waits for midnight. Nathan was right to take her home. He would have been missed. She should feel regret. She should feel a lot of things.

She _does_ feel a lot of things. Just not the right ones.

Mostly, she feels growing impatience with the slow tick of her bedside clock.

Are you all right, Nathan asked, after. It sounded like someone else. Felt like a vortex had opened up beneath her.

"Yes."

She smiled. Reached for him again. And they fell.

It's all right.

It's all wrong.

But it doesn't feel wrong.

10.

After dark. Past Pete's door. Gleam of her open eyes. "It doesn't feel wrong."

Sure doesn't.

Morning sunlight. Throw her a red apple. She bites. Wicked sparkle.

"You'll be late."

Ignore Angela.

"How about we meet for lunch?"

She nods. Grins.

Wink. This house isn't our home.

Seconds tick down to twelve. Meet her in the elevator. "What do you feel like?"

You want four, five courses, you think, at least. Eye her appreciatively. Make her laugh. Flush. You want to take your time.

Smile.

"Or we could skip lunch and have rough sex."

Ding.

Matt Parkman.

You spoil everything.

11.

What's _he_ got to be so scared about. Pathetic. Fingers twitch.

"We're not hurting anyone."

Don't justify yourself to him. Like his rules apply to us.

"Let me have this. Matt. _Please_."

Eyes narrow. Flinch. Fingers tick, tick, twitch.

"Matt's not telling anyone." Pleasant. Touch her back. Possessive. Take this, Parkman. Dare you.

"You don't know what you're doing."

Take her to lunch. You know exactly what you're doing. Spill of her hair, like – Tracy's. So many beautiful blondes. All her, somehow.

Her heels. Kicking. Digging in. You mean digging.

Seconds tick up to one.

"Meet me at midnight."

Yes.

12.

Angela tells her everything. _Everything_. Claire cries. She's lost Nathan. Nathan's _dead_, and _her_ Nathan is – Angela wants her to go away. Matt's going to catch him, tell him again who he is, make it like _before_, and Nathan's going to hate himself for this.

No.

Sylar took Nathan.

And then he gave him _back_.

To Claire.

His life falls neatly into two halves. And both belong to Claire. Fists clench. Claire's never been so high, never so wildly happy, and she's _not_ losing this. So it's wrong – in a whole different way from what she thought – but –

_We're special._

13.

Meet her in the car. Hurry. Only four thirty. Tires squeal. What's wrong?

"We gotta get out of here." Knuckles white. "Angela knows."

Kill Angela. Kill Matt.

No, you have to meet with the President, can't kill anyone. Wouldn't _kill_ Ma, anyway. Rub your face.

"They're gonna _brainwash_ you."

So scared. "What did Angela say to you?"

"I'm happy. She's not taking this from me." Sidelong glance. "I want _you_, Nathan. I don't care."

Turn around. She's reluctant. _Turn around._

You can take care of Ma. Practice soft eyes. Warm eyes. Contrition.

Pretend it's _before_, when you didn't want this.

14.

Getting caught is easy.

"_Please_, Nathan." Desperate kiss. Grab her wrists, push her back. She runs away. Your secretary overhears everything.

Less than ten minutes later, here's Ma. Little tattletale. "It didn't feel wrong," you plead. Hand over your eyes. "And then it _did_."

So tortured. Bewildered. "What's wrong with me?"

You convince her that you're – you don't know. Like you were? Before. Being confused is easy.

"I'm going back to Washington. I want you to keep Claire in New York."

Approval. Sadness. And for her you've got – amusement. And contempt.

Doesn't Angela know how fast you can fly now?


	3. Special

**Disclaimer:** If you recognise it, I don't own it.

**Special**

15.

Claire goes to bed early. At midnight, things are different again, but this time she knows to just accept it. Draw a line under yesterday. Cross it. Claire sees a flash of Sylar in Nathan's darkened eyes and makes a conscious effort to surrender. She has always been his perfect victim.

And now he's hers.

The moment unfreezes, and traps her in it.

Afterward, Claire remembers that Nathan only thinks he has to wait before he can fuck her senseless again. Nathan only thinks he has to sleep. The hours stretch out temptingly.

But – no.

Nathan only _thinks_ he's Nathan.

16.

"Your daughter called. She sounded… really upset."

Nathan doesn't take these calls. He's not supposed to.

Some things are easier in Washington. Others are not. One morning Nathan wakes, relieved to remember that he's not even related to Claire, that Angela lied to him. He 'remembers' this for five full minutes. One day Nathan loses four hours and comes to in the shower. The water's set to hot but it's icy cold, and his fingernails are scrupulously clean – except one. There's something red there, under the nail.

Nathan doesn't watch the news that night. He wants Claire to tell him.

17.

"It's a copycat."

Some things are easier in New York. Getting her to say that name isn't one of them.

"What did it say?" The walls. How do you know?

"His name."

That's not all. Bright, angular strokes. _How do you know?_

"What exactly?" Cup her face. Her eyelashes flutter. Butterfly wings. Want her –

To say it.

"You know what it said."

How do you know?

Hurt her. Just a little. She likes it, after all, and maybe you both like it a little too much.

"What exactly did it say?"

"It said – "

"_What_?"

"Sylar."

Hurt her.

A lot.

18.

This time she actually saw his eyes change, not just the expression in them, and the flutter of excitement she felt then is the first thing about all this Claire honestly thinks of as sick.

Copycat. Sure. Sylar got out. Long enough to kill someone. But he is _not_ going to ruin this for her.

"Wish I hadn't introduced you to so many people," Nathan says lazily. "I coulda married you."

His first First Lady. And instead of horror, this time Claire feels irritation. _First? _

"I'm your one and only." Claire murmurs. Not quite a reply.

"That's right."

She knows.

19.

"Petrelli goes out _every_ night." Your neighbour on the phone. How can you hear her through the wall? "Got a mistress somewhere."

Laughter – yours. Must be. Call your seventeen-year-old mistress. Tell her what you heard.

Laughter – hers. "Sounds like you should buy me furs and diamonds."

You will. Dress her in silk. Drape her with diamonds. Parade her on your arm for all the world to see. You can do anything.

But don't talk about last night.

It's not him. You watched him burn. With Angela and Peter – with _Ma_ and Peter.

And her.

"You ready?" Peter's voice.

Dial tone.

20.

Nathan sends her diamonds. Big diamond studs. Angela watches her open the pale blue box. "It's over." Claire whispers, shell-shocked.

But inside she's exultant. The senator's mistress is wearing only the earrings when he comes to her at midnight. Much later he tries to leave, and as always, Nathan comes back again and again, kissing her helplessly, like he just can't tear himself away.

"How many women has this worked on?"

"Just you."

Raised eyebrow. "And that?"

This charming smile is the other one's. Shiver. "That works on everyone."

"But I'm special."

Confusion. His green eyes are – briefly – black.

"Yes."

21.

When Nathan loses time, Sylar finds it.

He does little, silly things – like watching Senator Petrelli's daughter dance. Carving his name on Senator Petrelli's arm. Finding and murdering a man with a stupid ability, just to let Claire know he's still here, just so Nathan can hear her say that name.

She knows. And she still wants him. Sometimes, he could swear she's drawing him out. He thought he would save killing Angela and Parkman for later, but… Sylar is thinking that it's good to be Nathan Petrelli. With his power and influence. His adoring family.

His dirty little secret.


	4. Closer

**Disclaimer:** If you recognise it, I don't own it.

**Closer**

22.

Fly her to a cheap motel. Not like Mexico.

"What if they miss me?"

You'll kill everyone. "They won't."

Make as much noise as you want. Break furniture.

Wish you were here, Pete – on the other side of the wall. Pin Claire to it. She knows you've changed, sick girl, and she begs you for things but this time letting her go isn't one of them.

Changed?

Falter.

Her nails break skin. Diamonds catch the light. "Don't stop, you son of a bitch," she hisses.

Lose time.

Find it.

Claire knows. And you make her – forget to call you _Nathan_.

23.

Claire's never been good at self-control. She knows some things are wrong, but if she wants them, she can't stop herself. It's wrong to throw yourself off a bridge, in front of a train. It's wrong to love your uncle. And lying in this cooling bed is so many shades of wrong she's given up counting them.

She has her back to him. He could be anyone. "Give him back."

His breath stirs her hair. His hand hovers over her hip. But he doesn't touch her. "Are you sure?"

"_Yes_."

Something changes.

"Good?" Drowsy stretch.

Claire relaxes into Nathan. "Yes."

24.

This new Nathan loves Claire exactly the way she needs him to. And he will never grow old. Never die. Never leave her. Claire can spend forever with a man she loves and trusts. And Sylar is _not going to take this from her._

She calls Matt. It's an emergency. Her heart flutter-flutters and her hands flex and clench on the gun. I'm so sorry, Matt.

"Tell Angela I heard about the murder. Tell her I wanted you to fix me. To fix Nathan."

"Claire – "

"I'm not threatening your wife, Matt. Or your son."

Yet.

_I'm so sorry._

25.

Wake feeling clear. Cleansed. Diamond studs clutched tight. Why are you holding them?

"Did I fall asleep?"

She said it was an emergency. Why were you sleeping?

Claire smiles. Why is Parkman here?

"Feel better?"

Yes. Why does she have a gun?

Parkman swallows hard. "I better go."

She thanks him. For what? "Did he brainwash you?"

Door shuts. Gun down. Eyes darken. "No."

Desire drowns you. Guess he didn't brainwash _you_, either. But – "What did he do to me?"

"You've been losing time. I know. Sylar did something to you, hypnotised you. You're better now."

Yes.

Yes, you are.

26.

Claire seems happy and normal again. When Angela asks her why Nathan sent her those earrings, she frowns. Looks confused. Shrugs. "Guess he just felt like doing something nice for me."

Angela relaxes. Takes her to Washington, watches her with Nathan, sees only the growing friendship between them she saw before Coyote Sands.

There are no more Sylar killings. Angela has her son back. She has her family together again. Nathan shows Claire off like any proud father, and if sometimes he snaps at Peter for staring at her, it's no more than Angela would do.

It's over.

For now.

27.

He feels good. Integrated. Whatever Parkman did to him, it's made him a better Nathan Petrelli than he's ever been. He's very discreet with Claire. He's very discreet on his personal errands, disfiguring the bodies in 'accidents', playing with the new abilities far away from home. Even Parkman can't catch him out. He thinks, says, does all the right things.

Sylar knows who he is.

He's Nathan. Sometimes. When it suits him. When it suits _her_.

But how much of that Claire understands, he doesn't know. Sometimes there's an extra secret in her smile. A deeper darkness in her eyes.

28.

There's a storm coming.

He says her name more often. The fixation – obsession – is more intense. Claire crosses all the lines. Blurs all the boundaries. Anything for him. Who he is – who she is – she only pretends to know.

Breathless. Helpless.

_Claire._

Whose voice it is, she only pretends to know.

In the dark he could be anyone, but more often now he's not. Claire can't stop. Won't let him stop. As if he could, as if they could now.

Blink.

Nathan.

Blink.

_Sylar_.

Butterfly fast.

Claire closes her eyes. Butterfly caught.

There's a storm coming.

And it's coming closer.


End file.
